


Private Element

by wickedrum



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Emetophilia, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, a little smut at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-11-23 09:33:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11399850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedrum/pseuds/wickedrum
Summary: Thranduil rediscovers Tauriel a few years after BOTFA, at the same time as Tauriel rediscovers her roots.





	1. Geological Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

> It looks like time and time again, it proves impossible for me to stay away from these two for long even though I'm running out of scenarios to bring them together through whump.

Summary/Set/Pairing: Thranduil rediscovers Tauriel a few years after BOTFA.  
Genre: G, sickfic.  
Disclaimers: I don't own anything, barely my knickers.

Chapter 1: Geological Arrangement

Aweary, Thranduil tottered towards his chambers on uncertain legs, maintaining none of the gracefulness and poise he normally displayed. But it was late and he had sent everyone away, left the last pair of his guards stationed at the entrance of the cave section designated for him and felt like he had no need, or more importantly energy for pretences no more. Sighing half in relief and half in annoyance at the remaining distance to his bed, he steadied himself on the wall and closed his eyes for a moment before continuing. The day had been depressing to say the least. He woke to a desolate and pressing feeling in his stomach before daybreak and a sense of a shadow over him, foretelling what news came a few hours later, that the Corsairs of Umbar had destroyed the monument commemorating Ar-Pharazon's victory over Sauron and thus displayed their allegiance in no less than crystal clear terms. He spent the rest of the day writing letters to various of their own allies, making sure they knew of the growth of power of Mordor. Crippled by the weight of his thoughts, he almost didn't notice the intruder to his sanctuary, a servant in plain linen clothes with barely any leather or embellishment scrubbing at his floorboards furiously. The chastisement died in his throat however as he regarded the handmaiden. There weren't many Elves with this kind of bright red hair or that exact curve in their nose. She was thinner, and she averted her gemstone green eyed with more meekness than his once rebellious captain ever would, but it was her alright, “Tauriel?” The leaping of his heart he did not understand.

The redhead only made eye contact for the merest of seconds, but she stopped her work and seemed to be listening obediently, still on her knees in front of him, “yes, My Lord.”

“What are you doing here!” Thranduil's eyes widened in scandal, though by now it was more in response to the lowly state he had found her in, rather than the intrusion. 

“I beg your forgiveness, Your Highness, but Llamryl said I need to rectify the despicable job I have done with your floor earlier and I was told you were still in the throne room.”

“Llamryl?” The king looked rather confused. 

“Your Head of Royal Stewardry, My Liege.”

“I know what the name of the Head of my Royal Stewardry is, Tauriel, don't you think! What I want to know is why in Eru's name would you be doing what Llamryl tells you to do!”

Tauriel lowered her head further, weary of his reaction to what she was about to say, “I have been released from the dungeons last year, My King and had been able to work my way up to Your Halls.”

“The dungeons...” Thanduil shook his head. Much of what happened after the Battle of 2941 was a haze to him due to the immense personal and army losses he felt, but he was quite sure he had left the punishment of Tauriel to the Council as he did not feel he had a clear enough perspective for it. As he had not seen her later, he had largely assumed she had been banished for life. “You were in the dungeons?” 

It was Tauriel's turn to be surprised, making her drop her subduedness for a moment and look him in the eyes for longer. Was it not him who dealt her punishment? The way he had always treated her even since he had found her as a child in his woods, almost of if she was his property, it made no sense for him to lose sight of her. “I thought you knew,” she whispered flatly, shook, her own self worth spiralling a few levels lower than it already had been. 

“No.” He looked her up and down and continued to rest his eyes on her, “on your feet, Captain!”

Tauriel could not help a raise of the eyebrows. While she complied, she also contradicted him, further thrown by his unawareness of her situation, “I am no more a soldier, let alone a captain, Hir Vuin, I have been stripped of all my merits.”

Thranduil gave a discontented grunt, “enough of this nonsense!” He snapped. “You are a valuable asset to Mirkwood, you will always be and should be treated accordingly. Now drop that ridiculous rag into the bucket and follow me!” He marched into his inner rooms, making the effort to look royal and steady again. “Sit!” He demanded, gesturing towards one of the lounges placed not too far away while he lowered himself onto the four poster canopy bed.

“Sit, did you say?” Tauriel bumbled confused, wanting to make sure she didn't misunderstand somehow. Apart from dining occasions and Council meetings, it wasn't mannerly of subjects to sit in the company of the king. In fact he rarely did himself, apart from occupying his throne. 

Thranduil rolled his eyes, “please do not test my patience, elleth, I am too world-weary for that.”

Tauriel quickly planted herself to where she thought she was meant to, “I intend no discourtesy, Sire.”

The king sighed at that, seemingly unhappy as he narrowed his eyes, “did they really iron out all disrespect from you down in those cells? This isn't you, nith, snap out of it and get yourself together, I need my Tauriel here.”

“I don't understand. Am I doing something that is not pleasing?”

“Your love's passing, how is it affecting you?” Thranduil waved her off.

“Thank you for your interest, and your acknowledgement My Lord. I have come to terms with the reality, but it does not hurt much less thinking about it.”

“Are you well?” He asked quietly, thoughtfully. The impatience that characterised the conversation he led was gone for the moment. 

“Yes, My Liege,” Tauriel couldn't help the small smile playing on her lips seeing his concern. But did he really think the experience was affecting her so much she would consider fading or it would physically effect her? Cause there would be no other reason for an elf not to be well, apart from injuries of course. This interest was the greatest recognition she thought she could get from him. 

“In that case, you will go to Feren early in the morning and get yourself reinstated on my orders. You are needed on a mission to Cardolan. Dismissed,” Thranduil lay back on his pillows as he was, boots and mantle and all, heavy fabric notwithstanding, making Tauriel substantiate that her further presence was unwanted so she repressed to impulse to ask him whether she should call for his butler to help him undress and simply backpedalled out, reeling from the changes her peculiar encounter brought.

tbc

Glossary:

nith – young one


	2. Shipment

Chapter 2: Shipment

Feren didn't seem particularly exhilarated by her arrival and its purpose at the Royal Guard's Tactical Operations Centre housed just above the main gates of the cave-fortress. He went through her duties one by one as if her time in the dungeons could have made her forget what they were and regarded her with what looked like considerable suspicion. Tauriel couldn't exactly blame him for it, she would've probably done exactly the same, along with assigning some guards to covertly keep an eye on her, which Feren was likely also doing. 

“Do you know the purpose of the mission?” Thranduil's first lieutenant demanded.

“The king didn't say.”

“It is to recover the Daggers of Westernesse, said to harm and possibly kill the Nazgul.”

“How do we find those?”

“They were last heard of being buried somewhere in Cardolan. Those with a deep feel for magic should be able to sense their presence if close by.”

“Who will be our magical guide?” Tauriel feared a long trekking, combing every inch of the province, for Mirkwood didn't have many elves with a profound understanding of thaumaturgy.

“His Majesty.”

“His Majesty is coming with us?” The elleth found it hard to hide her surprise, “on a mission outside the kingdom?”

“Yes.” From the noticeable darkening of his expression, it was clear Feren didn't approve, “which is why I need you to be extra vigilant. As one of the ranking officers on the journey, his life will be in your hands,” the dark haired elf said sternly, boring his eyes into hers in the hope of complete concord from her.

“Peace, Sir. My record is impeccable, apart from that one lapse of judgement. In fact, Thranduil had always preferred me as second in charge on his ventures into the forest, so now it makes some more sense to me why he's taken control of my situation when the occasion arose.”

Feren regarded her deep in thought, “you've always been in favour,” he admitted with a sour taste in his mouth for he did not see what her extraordinary merits were to justify such treatment. He beckoned her closer at any case, “have a seat,” he motioned at a chair conspirationally while he sat down opposite. 

Tauriel took a moment to respond. It was the second time within a few hours that a superior made her sit in their company. “If you are going to be in a position of authority, you need to know a few things, in the main hidden to the public,” the First Lieutenant started, “about His Majesty's health. Are you aware of the incident at the memorial honouring the fallen after the battle?” 

The redhead nodded, “the king swooned and passed out with grief when going round the families to give his condolences.” That was common knowledge that had filtered its way even to the dungeons, an occurrence that solidified the people's faith in their leader rather than anything else. 

Feren nodded his accord, but added, “he never really recovered his strength since.”

Tauriel's forehead creased with confusion. While it being true that over a hundred elven lives were lost, none were Thranduil's close friends or family members and years having passed, the strain on the population should have eased as well. Even with her losing Kili, her physical strength has never been compromised. “I don't understand.”

Her superior nodded again, this time in understanding, “outwardly, he is doing everything that is expected from a monarch, but some of us higher up in power have been covertly delegated a number of responsibilities. For the king's own benefit, I have consulted with his innermost servants and was told that he spends most of the time out of public sight in bed, frequently exhausted and ill. He barely eats and has a healer visiting often.”

“What ails him?” Tauriel whispered with apprehensiveness. She closed her eyes for a moment, strengthening herself for what news could come. 

“We do not know. I have tried to speak to Kolvar, the healer he put his trust in, but I was met with a solid wall of discretion. Understandibly I must add.”

“Did you ask His Highness?”

“No.” Feren could not imagine the audacity. 

“Then why is Thranduil so intent on this mission?” 

“Because he wants all the Southern roads leading to Mirkwood cleared of Sauron's influence and he needs the daggers for that.”

“Since when does he care about anything that lies beyond the borders of his kingdom?” Tauriel's look was puzzled.

“Since he wants Legolas back safe and sound. He is taking risks, and so the burden falls to us to have to be watchful at all times. Can I trust you with the king's welfare,” Feren emphasized once more darkly.

“I will protect him with my life, you have my word,” Tauriel stood and nodded to make her oath look more earnest and formal, but what was more convincing was the deep emotion tainting the words of her promise.

Tbc


	3. Bait

Chapter 3: Bait

As everybody knows that the deep forest shortcuts only known by elves are not accessible on horseback, it was not entirely unusual to find the king at the front of the squadron as one of the pathmakers, utilising his sword to free the overgrown track from the dense vegetation and small critters inhabiting the thicket in a display of strength and leadership, and nor was it uncommon to see him leaving the heavy lifting to subordinates and strolling at a leisurely pace, letting himself be covered and protected by the few guards he had brought with him. Given that elves did not necessarily need sleep for a long time and would only take the military ordained three hours of respite per day, taken in two instalments, they would travel much faster than other species of Middle-Earth and thus would only need a few days to cross the forest and reach the High Pass of the Misty Mountains. 

Like she had promised, Tauriel, as well as the fellow travelling Captain, Paeris was keeping an even closer eye on the king as their station would have otherwise required. While Thranduil customarily kept his aloof and unsurprising distance from his subjects, you could say that he was unusually quiet, leaving most day to day orders to do with the securing of the safety and the advancing of the group to his captains, but otherwise as hard as she would try, she could spot no weakness or irregularity to do with the king. He would of course ask for no break, would keep up with them, charge the occasional spider like the rest, stood alert for danger and even showed them another shortcut long forgotten by younger generations. Eating very little on such a trek did not single him out either, elves thought little of reserving energy on the process of digestion when on a mission.

On their second night in the forest they took their respite just before daybreak, with most sitting down to take full advantage of their cloaks that provided them with a softer quietus on the leaves covered ground than perching themselves against the rough bark of the trees. Tauriel kept her attention on the dawning light, trying to judge by its brightness how much time had passed. She was just about standing up, ready to call out for an assembly for march when she saw Paeris trying to attract her attention by raising a hand and signalling for a seize movement. 

The redhead instinctively reached for an arrow, expecting company, but the other captain shook his head and nodded towards Thranduil, as he was sitting propped against a boulder, with his legs straight out in front of him, eyes closed, head tilting to the side. The poised Elvenking they knew would not allow himself such lack of qui vive in the company of others, if he would have needed sleep he still would have chosen to stay just on the edge of wakefulness, ready for any eventuality. As a consequence, the two captains shared a look and decided without words to both sit back down themselves and give the king the rest he so obviously required. 

It was another hour and a half before Paeris came to sit by her, “His Majesty will not be pleased to find out we have allowed timescales for advancing fall behind, nor about his soldiers seeing him in such an unusual state,” he whispered.

That sound however was enough to make the king stir. He made a start, then froze in unease and repugnance to the situation he found himself in. For a few moments he seemed to contemplate something while he collected himself to transform into the nonchalant and self-possessed royal they knew him as, but then that sang-froid was completely and suddenly ruined by him scrambling to his hands and knees and showering the forest floor with the yellow stream of his stomach contents, a flow lasting longer than Tauriel would have thought possible judging by the small amounts of nourishment Thranduil had consumed over the last few days. After the initial surprise, soldiers everywhere done their best pretending they haven't noticed, at the same time as Thranduil rolled to his feet, reattached his swords into his belt and started off on the trail again as if nothing would have happened, leaving the rest of the company to haste after him.

But while just about everyone in the accursed land would let the matter lie and leave it at the discretion of their ruler, Tauriel has taken her promise to heart to act in the king's best interest. And right now, his best interest was to let her know of his limitations and into some knowledge in regards to his curious afflictions so that she can readjust measures to protect him accordingly. Determined, she fell into step with him, watching him from close by, scrutinising his every step, move and minute change of expression, looking for signs that could give her a clue on how to assist him. But he didn't seem to show any more weakness at this point, apart from maybe the tightness of his lips, which could have been for a number of other reasons too, one of them being her scrutiny. She had to act before she was sent on her way, “if you don't mind me asking, Sire, what was that back there.”

Thranduil turned to her sharply before deciding that watching his step between vines was the better option, “under what sun do you imagine I don't mind!” He snapped.

“I beg your forgiveness, My Lord, it's just that your welfare is of the utmost importance to me.”

“Was my welfare also of utmost importance to you when you've aimed an arrow at my head?”

“I would have never let the arrow go, you know that, Hir Vuin. It was a desperate, foolish act to try to help a dwarf, nothing more. One that even the ever antagonising Feren was able to overlook when he entrusted me with the secret in regards to your health,” Tauriel thought coming clean was the best and possibly most effective in getting the result she wanted.

Clearly, Thranduil had not been aware of the gossip pertaining to his well-being in the Halls as fury rose in him like a flood and his voice considerably rose in volume as he narrowed his eyes, “what does Feren know and who from!” He fisted his hands.

“My Lord, is it not understandable and probably expectable of your chief of your armed forces to conduct his own investigations about his High Commander's welfare? Would he be up to standard otherwise?”

Thranduil raised an impatient, twitching eyebrow, “it's not your task to defend Feren. Continue.”

“As far as I'm aware, all that he knows is what we have witnessed ourselves at the respite spot, symptoms of exhaustion and stomach upset.”

“Who else knows?” Thranduil's gaze was just as icy as his words. 

“Feren didn't elaborate, but it would mainly be some of those in a position of power. I know Paeris had been briefed when it became unavoidable, just like with me, right before the journey. We needed to know if you will be well enough to complete the mission.”

“Are you questioning me!” Thranduil's voice was deep and menacing.

Tauriel however was past subduedness. It was important to get through to him and having raised a weapon at the king in the past and having survived it gave her a certain bravado, aided by her inborn rebeliousness. “It is me, Tauriel, the child you have taken upon yourself to rescue and raise with farthermore kindness than I could ever hope for as an orphan with no name or standing. I owe everything to you and Legolas. I implore you to take it as a sign of utmost respect, regard and duty that I am offering my services in the matter. Legolas would not expect any less from me and I am not intending to disappoint him, not this time,” she committed.

“Silence!” Thranduil hissed, nowhere near ready to divulge and expose himself. “Take a turn at the front hacking.”

Tbc


	4. Demurrer

Chapter 4: Demurrer

As enduring as elves were and as used to they were to life in the forest, they still let out a collective, intramural relieved sigh when they got to the edge of the forest and onto an area where it was a lot easier to see an enemy coming from afar. The trek however was only getting harder, up the mountain pass and against the wind. Notwithstanding, both captains' eyes were on their king, but with Tauriel audacious enough to trail just an arm's length from him, at the ready to provide assistance she was convinced he would need sooner or later. If she wasn't as close, she would've not noticed the signs either, his balance just a little bit more unsteady, his breathing just above noticeable, the avoidance to look at anyone and concentrate on anything else but the next step in front of him. Not that she would have expected him to, but the bullheaded fool didn't stop, not when a thin sheet of sweat started to form on his forehead, nor when he had to repress a wince and keep from rubbing at his belly for more than a moment. Nothing escaped Tauriel attention though, so when he took a deeper breath and closed his eyes, the redhead anticipated trouble, her hands reaching for him when he faltered and came to a stop, bending at the middle. 

Thranduil took a moment to blow the air out slowly and in a controlled way, then opened his eyes and tried to push himself away from her supporting arms, action that only made him breathe harder and bend further. “You are in pain,” Tauriel observed, “you need to rest,” she looked to a boulder on the roadside he could sit on. Supporting him under his forearm, she could tell his hands were shaking.

“Mmm,” Thranduil gave a nondescriptive answer, but one that didn't appear like an objection, so she steered him in the right direction and cast suggestive looks at her fellow captain for help. 

Paeris looked rather reluctant touching the king, but ultimately followed her example by providing support under the forearm at the other side and together they managed to deposit their ruler onto the rock, where Thranduil buried his head into his hands, catching his breath. “I suggest you make haste to Rivendell, let Lord Elrond know His Majesty needs help getting over the mountain,” she took advantage of Thranduil's current inability to speak. Tauriel was fully aware that her proud king would not agree to asking for help, but she judged it best to have it available. 

Paeris looked from one to the other for a moment, then thankfully decided her prompting was in the king's best interest as well, “I will take two of my guards, I leave the rest here with you for protection,” he nodded his acknowledgement before heading off. 

Tauriel stood lost for a moment, not sure how else she could help, but then Thranduil moaned and seemed to be tilting, so she quickly sat down beside him and made her body a wall he could lean into. “Aran nin, you are very pale. Would it not be better to lie down on the grass?” She feared him passing out. 

He was shaking like a leaf but he grasped at her hand powerfully, “send the guards...away. Nobody to see...” The king voiced confidentially.

Tauriel fixed him with her gaze, “are you sure? I don't want to leave you..” She looked helplessly in the said elves' direction. Peppered as they were strategically around on the pass, she would have to abandon him for quite a while to dispatch everyone on different tasks. 

“Hindguards first...” Thranduil panted.

The redhead bit her bottom lip. She wasn't sure the king wouldn't topple if she let go of him, but he also looked utterly desperate not to be seen in the position he was in and the elves coming up the elevation could be arriving unawares at any moment. “I'm going, I'm going, hold on,” she jumped and raced, not daring to look back for fear of realising the full extent of his condition. Tauriel was startled to find three of the aforementioned guards scaling the mountain just below the next mound and quickly waved them down, stopping them from going further, “you are to go back to the last sentry, make camp there, you will be given a signal when to move.” She collected herself, her movements leisurely like somebody's on a reprieve, not wanting to raise suspicion. Concealed by the mound however, she sprinted back to her master, finding him dry heaving and not caring anymore that she was seeing him clutch his belly. To him she could not go yet withal as he pointed upwards, letting her know she wanted the other guards derailed as well.

“Captain Tauriel!” Two other guards were not far away either, only a mere turn in the road separated them from Tauriel. “Captain Paeris instructed us to come back, set up defensive perches,” the darker one let her know on approach. 

“You do that, but further up. I am watching the road here,” she deterred them, made sure they've set off in the right direction, then disappeared herself, feeling strange as if she was betraying someone yet all she was doing was acting on the king's wishes. 

Thranduil was waiting for her, he did not hesitate to reach out for her this time, steady himself and grab onto her as if for dear life. The cause didn't escape Tauriel, the uncoordinated movements and the swimming head gave her the indication that he was barely conscious and hanging on to it by a thread so he didn't raise any objections when she caught his body with hers, letting him nest in and pulled him down onto the ground to his side as she had wanted to do from the start. He still clang to his intent though, “not a word of this to anyone,” he mumbled, eyes unfocussed and mouth whitened to a thin line. 

“You can trust me,” Tauriel assured with as much gentleness as she could muster.

“I did not expect to be so overtaken by an episode,” Thranduil explained, looking at her brokenly. He seemed surprised himself. He hated how his dignity was lost in front of her, but there was precious nothing he could do about it for the moment and the thought gave him an even more lost, addled look. 

That he could appear so vulnerable shocked Tauriel more than anything. “Did Kolvar give you no medicine to take for the journey?” The Captain demonstrated her rounded knowledge of the situation. 

Thranduil took it as a matter of fact reality, having no energy for more varied emotional reactions. “There is no medicine that can help me.” He seemed angry, but directed towards himself more than anyone else.

Tauriel felt as if the blood had frozen in her veins at the reveal, the implications were breaking her heart, but she reminded herself to concentrate on practicalities, “so what assistance did he provide on his visits to your rooms? I could maybe replicate it?”

“You can't.”

“You are probably not aware because it had nothing to do with my training, but I have taken it upon myself to study the art of healing in my free time and had not long ago had the chance to demonstrate my expertise,” she referred to her cure of Kili's poisoning, much use as it was in the long run. 

“You can't because you're not superannuated. You can't bring me momentary repose by connecting me with my wife's spirit.”

Tauriel blanched. She stumbled on the words, but she had to ask, “wouldn't such a manifestation hasten your death?” The elleth was terrified, “contrary to what a healer should do?” 

“It helped,” The blond established on a barely audible voice, too consumed to elaborate any further. 

“My Lord, if you don't want to lie here and be found by Lord Elrond and your own guards alike, you need to tell me how it helped and I shall do my very best to think of something akin that could serve as a substitute. Please, My Lord, it is my duty to try.”

“I felt her...I felt her love...” The Sindar fixated his gaze ahead, half as if talking to himself. “It eased the pain.”

“Are you talking about physical pain?” Tauriel regarded him confused, his hands on his belly.

“Everything...” Thranduil closed his eyes, drifting. Clearly it was all she was going to pry out of him in the situation, which didn't leave Tauriel much to go on. Sure enough, she wouldn't be able to invoke a bond that stretched between two levels of existence, or even allure to it. She did not know the late Queen Ilyrana, nor where such a soul would reside. All she knew about the king's wife came from Legolas, and that wasn't much. And while the younger elleth was deeply moved by how much Thranduil needed his other half even after centuries of her passing, she also feared the repercussions of such a tendency. Will he be able to withstand the call of the Valar, or even want to. But first things first. Acting on a wind of determination, she collected herself to take stock of her task and what she could tell of his condition. Pale and expression pained, his fingers were digging into his stomach slightly, his jaw was clenching, making her conclude that his primary affliction and the reason for his lack of strength and inability to continue must be pain. Not knowing the reason restricted her medical options in terms of herbs and potions, but she still had her access to magic so for lack of anything better, she made an effort to overcome her self-conscious emotional state over being so intimate with him and placed her own trembling hand on Thranduil's midsection and started a healing chant half-heartedly as she did not know if it would be useful or not. The “ceven dhaer, anno vellas lín enin 'raw hen”chant however, driven by her desperation, started to take a life of its own as she repeated the words over and over, quicker and quicker, each time with more conviction, firmness and purpose, sympathy that turned into empathy, her warm wish for him to improve, her dedication and affinity in loss she had a much better understanding of than ever before. She has given all her will, all her being, all her love...

“What did you do!”

Tauriel removed her hand in alarm and opened her eyes to see Thranduil pushing himself up abruptly into a sitting position, much less pale and much more composed, “I feel almost as improved and reinforced as if having taken a session connecting with the world of the departed, even though no such thing has happened,” he declared, his voice strong and back to unwavering, “how did you do that?” He fixed her with an unwavering, probing gaze.

The redhead shook her head in disarray, rather bewildered herself,“I have simply made use of a basic healing chant in hope to provide some comfort. How are you feeling, My Lord?” She asked hopefully.

Thranduil took some time to answer, most likely taking internal stock and reflecting on its likelyhood. “Well enough,” he ruled dismissively. “Help me up,” he held out a hand. 

Tauriel gathered herself quickly and pulled him to his feet as well, and did not let go, not expecting him to have miraculously recovered completely. Sure enough, a little unsteady and slightly bending at the middle, he did not reject her support, but insisted on, “let's go.”

“Are you certain, My Lord?” She questioned him, “would it not be better to wait for assistance? Paeris will surely bring up some horses from the valley if not Lord Elrond himself.”

“I won't be beaten by a little stomachache,” the king spat moodily, fixing the mountain with his gaze instead of her.

“It is a bit more than a little stomachache,” the redhead countered, putting an arm around him for better purchase in case he needed more support.

“You need not concern yourself with it Tauriel,” Thranduil ordered in a no nonsense manner, frowning at her insistence to oppugn her ruler and sighed in exasperation. His icy gaze was back. “I will take a proper rest in Rivendell,” he allowed, “and then we have other, more important matters to deal with.”

tbc

Glossary:

Great earth, may you give your strength to this body ~ Ceven dhaer, anno vellas lín enin 'raw hen


	5. Residuum

Chapter 5: Residuum

“May I sit with you for a moment Tauriel?” She was startled by Lord Elrond's smooth voice as she sat looking out to the valley on Riverdell's master's steps leading up to his house, making her jump up and bow respectfully, “my Lord.”

“Sit, sit, henig, I merely wish to join you here on the stairs, pengril,” the Half Elf lowered himself onto a stone step and motioned for her to take her previous contemplating place. 

“As you see fit, my Lord,” Tauriel was quite slow in her movements to comply, rather uncertain of the forwardness she had been approached with by the famed and mighty ruler of Rivendell. 

“Thranduil is asking for you,” the dark haired elf said matter of factly, which made the Captain's eyes widen, ready to jump up again. However, the father of three held up his hand once more, “wait. There's a delicate matter to be discussed beforehand. Now, I am aware of how much Legolas and Thranduil treasure you. Le pengron vaen a maecheneb, le bain sui ninniach...”

“Legolas?...” The redhead bit her lip. She didn't mean to interrupt the founder of Imladris, but she was rather startled by Elrond's knowledge.

The older elf gave a slight nod, “Rivendell is a refuge for all who need it to escape the world's various troubles and Legolas has spent last rhiw in a seclusion of his own choosing here.”

“I am glad to hear of him. Is Prince Legolas well?” She tried to get a feel for how her disastrous choices by Dale were affecting him. 

“He has decided that further soul searching was necessary, but that it could be done at the same time as performing some assignments in my service.”

“I am sure my Lord Thranduil will be happy to hear about his son's well-being as well.”

“He was,” Elrond allowed, “and he is eager to continue with your planned journey, no matter how I've advised him against it.”

Tauriel's face darkened with the prospect, “I trust you were able to help him get better.” Elrond's healing skills were well known after all. 

“That is what I need to talk to you about, Captain Tauriel. I have at least managed to convince him to rest a couple more days and the few he had already spent in bed has been of great service to him, but I wanted to make sure that you were fully aware of how direful Thranduil's situation is. The thought of his son coming back to him is the only thing he is clinging to, and I am not sure it will ultimately keep him from his spirit passing over to Valinor soon. Thranduil is very, very ill and there's nothing that any healer can do about it. He is already conferring with the Undying there at times.”

Although having known and suspected something alike, she did not expect the magnanimity of it. Tauriel looked ill herself at the revelation and shook her head disbelievingly, “no, it cannot be.”

“Take your time child, taking it in, I'm sure it's not an easy thing to hear.”

“It is all my fault...” Tauriel looked ahead, frozen by the guilt resonating within her chest, words so soft they could barely be heard.

“How could it be your fault, henig?”

“If Legolas wouldn't have left due to disappointment in me, then my King would not be on the verge of going to Valinor.”

“Thranduil had been on the verge of that for hundreds of years, it has simply taken him longer than most. Thinking otherwise would be deluding yourself.”

“But...”

“Looking for blame is not helpful, Silvan,” Elrond reprimanded decisively, “what your king needs from you is dedication.”

“He has that!” Tauriel exclaimed rebelliously, tears filling her eyes. She did not like being reminded of that one moment she went up against him, it's not who she was. “Mirkwood has my complete allegiance.”

Elrond produced a small pouch from his mantle, “an infusion with a pinch from these herbs should temporarily help with his pain. It can be used both internally and externally. I entrust you with these, as well as the command of four of my best soldiers. You are to send one of them back if you need help, of any kind, wherever you may be.”

Tauriel had to swallow down her emotions before she could speak, “I thank you so much, Lord Elrond.” Her movements were slow as she reached for the medicine, “please my Lord, if you could figure, do you think he will be able to complete the journey?”

“If he takes it easy, I believe so. However its success is another matter. With the lessening of his strength, his magia has also weakened in potency, but not surprisingly, he will not accept any more of my help. It is up to you to return him safe and sound.”

“You can count on it,” Tauriel swore fiercely with a deep breath, making herself believe that if she meant it genuinely enough, it will become true.

“Now go to him, he is waiting,” Elrond reminded her.

tbc

Glossary:

archer ~ pengril  
child ~ henig   
winter ~ rhiw   
You are a skilled and sharp-eyed bowman ~ Le pengron vaen a maecheneb  
You are beautiful like a rainbow ~ Le bain sui ninniach


	6. Transformation

Chapter 6: Transformation

Tauriel found her king in the same place he had spent the last few days, tossing and turning impatient and uncomfortable, too feeble to attempt another journeying just yet, and too discomfited to rest properly. “Good day My Lord,” the redhead tried to appear optimistic, not like someone who had just gotten some very bad news, “I was told you've called for me.”

“I did. Is the soldiery well fed and rested?”

“Yes, Aran Nin. But you aren't,” she accused outright, not in the mood for pretence and acknowledgement of station after what she had just heard. 

“That is why I've called you. You have performed a miracle out there, temporarily improved my condition beyond what anyone else had ever done, and that includes those who have studied magia for millennia. Whatever you have done, I need you to do it again.”

“I'm not sure if I can..” Tauriel was just as confused as she had been when the event had occurred, “I don't understand the workings of that power. It felt like warmth coursing through me, but I shouldn't have that ability. Not with being a warrior and taking life on a regular basis.”

“Don't be afraid. You can't cause more harm than it has already occurred.”

Tauriel hung her head at that, her guilt sodden mind interpreting the words differently, encompassing a longer time frame, “I..I did not know what to do. Even before Kili, I could not offer Legolas what I didn't have. I could not reciprocate his feelings, but I am profoundly sorry for hurting him that way.”

Thranduil raised an eyebrow, somewhat taken aback by what he perceived as a the change of subject. “You cannot control somebody else's heart. In any case, you weren't the only one to blame for my son's departure,” he admitted as much, “now come, sit beside me,” he nodded at the side of his bed, considering the matter over with. 

The archer followed the order with the emotional turmoil still raging in her spirit and so barely noted how close quarters she had gotten with the king again. It was only when he had reached for her hand that she stiffened, startled, becoming aware at the same time how her back side touched his upper thigh. Her sense of propriety told her to pull away, but he had her hand in his, seemingly studying it, her nimble, fine archerfingers, the calloused bits of her palm where she held the bow and the top of her index finger hardened by the many arrows she had released. Currently it was slightly shaking like it never did in battle, disquieted by the attention. “Hir Thranduil...” She expressed her disarray and discomfort, her wish to retreat. 

The king however was intent on the exact opposite. He gently pulled the hand towards himself and placed it on the midsection of his belly, nodding at her encouragingly and with more confidence than Tauriel thought wise. “Carry on and make it happen,” he prompted some more at her hesitance. 

“As you wish,” the redhead tried to get her thoughts in order for the state of mind needed to conjure healing energy. “It helps if I know a few details, points to focus on.” She had the urge to take her hand away while they were talking but it was trapped under Thranduil's. “How bad does it hurt, where exactly and how does it manifest itself? Do you have any other symptoms?”

Thranduil sighed his pride away, knowing this part of the process was indeed necessarily for a likely more successful approach. “It feels like smarting coming in spasming waves, worst where your hand is and I feel dizzy when it comes, hot and cold at the same time and drifting towards infinity, unable to focus on anything else but the pain,” he elaborated matter of factly, voice purposively without emotion.

Tauriel bit the inside of her lip, really not liking the last part about him floating away. At this point, she wanted to make sure he still performed worldly functions, “and how is your appetite? Have you eaten anything today?”

“Some soup,” he looked pointedly at the bowl with a creamy substance sitting almost full on the table, “Elrond insists on keeping me hydrated.” 

“Does it hurt more after you eat?”

“No,” he clenched his jaw in annoyance. 

“Then why don't you eat?” Tauriel nagged, again fearing that earthly pleasures were past him.

Thranduil rolled his eyes, “tedious.” He ran a hand though his long hair, almost like pulling at it in frustration, but without being obvious about it. He did not like the questioning. 

“Do you not take any pleasure out of your food?”

He fixed her with an are-you-kidding-me stare. “Can you imagine how boring each and every dish gets after millennia? It is a heavy feeling, quite like as if you would already be full.”

“Hm, we can maybe deal with that later, I've seen some different approaches to cooking in Laketown.” Her eyes trailed back to her hand, on his belly still. She was stalling, she knew that. “Are you ready for this?” It was herself she should have asked. 

Thranduil nodded, more in a prompting than affirmative manner, “I'm waiting,” he pointed out.

There could be no more delay. The red-haired archer took a strengthening breath and closed her eyes, concentrating on his belly. Then she blinked her eyes open rapidly, chastising herself. It wasn't the curves of his muscles and the dip of his navel that she was supposed to fixate on, nor how pleasantly warm the touch was! She bit her lip and with a new start, she centered her focus on her own healing energy instead, pooling it into her hand. Her lips mouthed the chant, it was to get herself into the right frame of mind. The redhead really, really wanted to help him, no matter how long it took, poring the alterative magia in waves, as much of it as she could manage each time into the focus point, till it maybe would be sufficient to induce the required result. If she tried hard enough, she would reach that point once..

“The tingling is pleasant, pleasurable even, but it isn't what you've done up the mountain pass.” Thranduil commented after a while. 

“I don't know what I've done differently, I'm sorry, My King. I know I was more desperate because you were in a lot of pain, maybe that is the difference.”

“So you'd require me in a lot of ail in essence,” the king concluded in a way Tauriel found it hard to tell if he was mocking or sarcastic, or if the latter, who it was directed at. She renounced the notion nevertheless vehemently with a shake of the head and a “no, no, no, never. I will continue to try and find a way before it gets to that.” The sheer prospect of that made her fret. “I never wished any ill upon Your Majesty, please believe that.” It was troublesome having to explain herself over and over in regards to the matter to everyone and their brothers, but possibly that's what she deserved for considering an elvishly unimaginable deed such as kinslaying. “I feel nothing but the uttermost goodwill and...” How should she phrase that positive emotion that had connected her to the royal family more than blood ever could, “...warmheartedness towards Your Highness. I would die for it, for you, the devotion...” She gazed down at him, conveying that sentiment before she was distracted by the enveloping, compelling serenity to the degree of blessedness that engulfed her spirit, so much in contrast to the turmoil of emotions she otherwise felt. It made no sense to reach that state when she hasn't even been concentrating on healing, so she shook herself and withdrew her tingling hand in confusion, startled by her own sudden state of mind.

“Tauriel?” Thranduil questioned confounded, fixing her searchingly with his gaze. 

“I'm sorry Sire, I don't know what came over me. I will continue my efforts in a moment after I collect myself to fully focus, with your permission, My Lord,” she struggled to keep her voice steady after the profound experience and so took a deep breath to start what she'd promised.

“You don't know what you've done? You don't know you made the churning of my guts go away?” He paused to let it sink in, then demonstrated the deed by swinging his legs down and sitting on the side of the bed, right next to her. 

“I...I am glad to hear it but I...I did?” She trailed off, voice coming to a whisper.

They shared a silent look in marvel. “Same as last time.” The relief brought a small smile to Thranduil's face. “You don't know how you did it? Maybe to do with some common thought on both occasions that occurred to you just before?” He crossed his legs and shifted so he could see her better.

“No, I...was talking about how I feel towards you, there was no other thought at that time.”

“And when you last did it?” He kept prompting by placing a hand on her arm gently, wanting an explanation.

“I wasn't speaking that time, nothing but a quiet chant.” But I was thinking about how I felt towards you, Tauriel realised, quickly swallowing, averting her eyes and hoping she could keep herself from blushing. 

“Well, either way, we know now that while the relief is temporary, it is certainly re-creatable,” he summarised what was important, “now I can be certain of our imminent departure, two dawns from now,” he set the schedule.

Tbc


	7. Bivouac

Chapter 7: Bivouac

“I am sorry for the delay, My Lord, I had to make sure the perimeter is secure,” Tauriel explained on her arrival to the king's tent that had been now swiftly raised every other night or so for his more suited to royals' convenience whenever it was time for another respite during their search for the daggers through the hills of Cardolan. Less beknown to their companions however, the existence of the tent mainly served as a private place where Thranduil could secretly ask the redhead to tend to him, act which Tauriel was getting better at with each turn. Her attempt to ameliorate his condition at Imladris has been like a revelation. Now that she knew it was her love for him that she needed for her magia to work, it became easier to call it forth. But as successful as the Silvan had become at giving him temporary relief, it was obvious to her that his overall state of health was getting worse. He requested the setting up the tent more and more often, and this latest stop surprised Tauriel completely as not even a full day had passed since the last time they had taken a repose. She looked round for his cot, “is your stomach cramping bad?”

“No. I'm sensing something...”

“A new symptom?”

Thranduil waved her off, “these red hills have been deserted for millennia, and even before the plague, the people and hobbits inhabiting it were not particularly aware of or connected with the magical nature of the world. Yet here, around these mounds, there is a sense of a vague pull sometimes, looking to attach itself to something, to balance out.”

Tauriel sighed in relief at hearing the stop wasn't for his state of health. “If we stay to investigate,” she remembered Elrond's warning that the king's magia isn't as powerful as it used to be, “it would be worth doubling up sentries in case of barrow-weights in wait for the enemy trying to gain advantage over them. I know that a long time has passed since the daggers were used but I would like to be prepared for every eventuality.”

“Do as you see fit.” 

She nodded her understanding, but her departure was held by Thranduil stepping up close to her in the small, cramped space of the collapsible shelter and taking a hold of her arm, “I need your help,” he disclosed quietly, confidentially.

The redhead couldn't help her eyes lowering to his abdomen, but he gave a small shake of the head, “magia works better if drawing power from a familiar spirit. Now, I haven't done such a thing for a long time, not since...” She shook, discarding some memory and started again, “but the Queen and I had done it frequently, often for no more than pleasure or the blossoming of some tree, and I am sure I am still able to channel the power necessary and enable us to find the artefacts we're looking for.”

Tauriel stood still, breath caught in her throat, their bodily closeness rattling her just as much as the implications of what was said. “You...you want me to be your familiar?” She stumbled on the words, looking at him with puzzlement. Though limited in terms of time and distance, it would mean they would be connected, could be able to feel each other's pain, see the world with the other's eyes.

“I would not draw upon the link arbitrarily, only when absolutely necessary,” he assured her, “for the most, your existence would continue just as it is now. I will not abuse the power, even though I am King, if that is what you're afraid of.”

“I am yours to do as you wish,” Tauriel bowed, hoping this act might balance out her past misdeeds. 

“Very well,” he slid his hand down from her arm to her fingers and entwined them with his, “come,” she pulled her to his camp bed and down onto it as he sat down, his other hand producing a drawing from atop the pillow, that of a leaf shaped dagger ornated with serpents round it, red and gold. “There should at least five of these Nazgul killers somewhere in a tomb around here.” He reached out to the table where two lit candles sat and handed one to her with his free hand, then took the other, “do you know what these are for?” At her searching, curious eyes he added, “I will say the spell, then we each need to bring our candles close to each other and blow gently. Make sure you don't extinguish the flames, only make them conjoin, if only for a moment.”

“I am ready,” she ventured excitedly, breaths deep as she tried to take the experience in. Connecting with the King. 

Thranduil squeezed her hand he still held and took a strengthening breath himself. “With these words I speak to thee. Bridge the gap tween you and me. Through the waves of Eru and Valar's birds, might will travel swiftly tween you and me,” he took the lead to blow the flame towards hers and she eagerly followed his example. 

At once, time seemed to have stopped with the blue flash of light emitted by the meeting flames. Dizzy, her breaths came erratic, eyes searching the void while images passed at a rate she could not understand like the world crashing down on her, a sea of elves and flowers, roots exploding, corpses and flames and a corridor of endless stone. “Are you alright?” Tauriel came to the awareness of Thranduil kneeling in front of her, her face between his palms. 

Her eyes widened at the position, but she could not get away without pushing at him and such thing she could not do. “I'm sorry, My Lord, I...”

“It is I who should have warned you it might be intense,” he pulled back, satisfied she wasn't going to plonk forward. “Can we continue?”

“Of course, Sire.”

“Very well. The daggers. I shall feel for them.”

“What should I do?”

“You're not required to do anything. All I need is silence and your hand,” he took hold of it once more. 

The anxiety Tauriel could not help. Self-aware, she swallowed harshly and fought to bring her heartbeat and breaths under control, the shaking of her hand in his, distracting herself by staring at the drawing, the inky sheath, the sharp edge, the firey stones adorning it. The vision came fulminant and explosive like a shower of ice, not unlike the previous startling images, but more focussed and specific, the witch king and battle scenes and foothills. She gasped, suddenly having to fight for air and when she finally got some she was in his arms again as he gently lay her down onto the blanket. “Forgive me Tauriel, I did not take into account that you are Silvan and the effects an enchantment like this may perchance have upon you. It might be too much to take in. Would you like me to get you some water?”

Tauriel shook her head faintly. It was his unroyal behaviour taking care of her in such a tender, hands on manner that she was disquieted by, as well as the visions. “Did...you see...them?” She stammered, dazed to the extent she didn't think of pulling away from his hands on her arms.

“Did I see what?” Thranduil looked distracted from his original task by his concern for her, “oh, the daggers? Don't mind those just now.”

“You didn't see them?” Tauriel sat up, surprised. “I...I think I know where they are,” she nodded to herself in affirmation, made an effort to take control of her breathing and bring her whirling mind to a standstill, then got to her feet with resolve, so wound up in her goal and the memory of the mental imagery she had seen that she had completely forgotten that she merely left the king to trail after her if he wanted to see what she was talking about.

Tbc


	8. Curio

Chapter 8: Curio

Thranduil stared at the six long, damasked blades, currently sitting lined up on his table in his tent after being dug up from a mound exactly where Tauriel had pointed. They were shimmering with a transcendental glow and had been forged with the most exquisite craftmanship, but none of that fascinated the Elvenking as much as how they were found. He slowly turned to stare at his Captain with no less captivation. “You present a whole array of Elfcraft recently,” he summarised, looking at her as if it was the first time he's seen her. 

She shook her head, “I don't think so, My Lord. It must've been the link you've created that caused it.”

“No, Tauriel. You've had enhanced healing powers before the linkup and I have not seen the vision of the blades you have described. It was more like that the connection strengthened your powers, not mine.”

“I am sorry if it is so, I did not mean to cause that.”

“Do not apologise, my dear. If it is so, then it was how The Valar had arranged it.”

“But I did not have such powers before, I did not wish them either, not any other times then with occasions of great need.”

“It's not unusual for intense emotional reactions to bring skills of magery forth.”

“But I have not studied them in detail and I am Silvan.”

“Are you?” Thranduil rounded on her again.

Tauriel's eyes went wide with discombobulation again. “Well I...it was you who had found me, I was barely more than a toddler. But I do remember living in the forest, and I don't have Sindar features.”

Thranduil gave a contemplating sigh, “you have fine features, a bit more than the ordinary Silvan. Your hair is red, so also lighter and less dark than the rest. Given recent developments, we may have to consider that at least one of your grandparents or even parents was Sindar. Do you remember them at all?”

“Not their faces. My father's arrows, my mother's voice, soothing and telling me everything will be alright. It wasn't.” 

“Anything else?” He looked at her closely. 

“I don't think so.”

Thranduil sighed again, this time a long suffering one. “Tauriel. Judging by your size and abilities, it was judged you were at least ten years of age when I found you. You should be able to remember more.”

“I truly do not, I am sorry Your Excellency.”

“Do you remember your family home's location?” There wasn't much space in the tent, but Thranduil used the few feet available to pace. 

“I was told it is in a region of the forest we no longer defend for it being lost to spider infestation.”

“Well, that doesn't mean we cannot visit.”

“My Lord?” Tauriel was surprised again.

Thranduil took a decisive stance as he turned, “in the view of recent events, I believe it is time we look for some clues to your origins.”

“I am most honoured that you should think my ancestry worthy of contemplating and I do not wish to disobey, please understand, but I think we should go back to your Halls, have you resting now that our mission is accomplished,” Tauriel dared to argue with him once again, “it is your well-being that I must assure as your Captain of the Guard. We may not even have enough troops with us for such a venture.”

“Falderol,” he hit back. “Perhaps you should consider that you're causing me more harm by always protesting.”

“I am sorry, Your Excellence,” she forced herself to fall back into her role, but his well-being she would not compromise on. “Are you well? Do you need my services tonight?” She asked tensely, as always, hating knowing he might be in pain.

Thranduil glanced in his cot's direction. It was inviting in contrast to the dull ache occupying his belly he was always trying to ignore. He sighed, “you may provide some comfort,” he strode over to settle on his back.

Tauriel had to suppress a smile over the fact that he was evidently very keen but still keeping up appearances. Kneeling by the camp bed for better access, she gently and fluidly placed a hand on his stomach as per routine. It became quick and easy, calling forth the power, she didn't even have to think about getting into the right state of mind, her love for him was ubiquitous and unquestionable. She left her hand lying there for a few moments longer than necessary however, intimacy that no longer felt unusual. This time, it felt even deeper, there was a connection there that wasn't there before. It had to be due to the link previously set up between them.

Thranduil replaced her hand with his on his belly, not because it hurt, but because it felt like a void not feeling her touch. “Good night, Tauriel,” he dismissed her, “please blow the candles out on your way out.” It would have been advisable to get to sleep as soon as possible before any stomachache returned, but he stared into the darkness instead, trying to categorise all these strange feelings roiling inside him. It had to have something to do with their link because he no longer felt as lost, severed from love and desolate as before and he did not know what to do with feeling like that as happiness and contentment like this had avoided him for centuries. Angry with himself for the inkling to push aside his wife's memory, he turned to his side and rubbed his belly, half wishing it hurt. 

Tbc


	9. Menage

Chapter 9: Ménage

Tauriel was weary, wearier than she had been with the occasion of any adventure or duty assignment she had ever undertaken, and for several reasons at that. First of all, this was spider territory, they've encountered three nests just in the last few hours and there would be no way any real respite could be considered wise under the circumstances. Secondly, she did not look forward to possibly remembering the hardship of her childhood and the sorrow of her family's passing, there was already enough ruefulness in her life for that and thirdly, she did not like how Thranduil had taken the lead to show them the way, exerting himself with both orienteering using vantage and reference points, as well as taking a share in shooting at spiders. Tauriel felt momentary relief when he put a hand up to halt all, anxious to step up to him and perhaps tend to his needs behind the cover of a tree if nothing else. 

“Test these vines, see if they are strong enough to hold us going down,” he motioned Paeris towards the edge of a cliff they've arrived upon. 

“Is there no other way?” Tauriel questioned his choices again, regarding the mist that was the only thing that could be seen down below. 

“There is, but it would take another day's hike at best. We are aiming to a location just below to where the mist starts, not the bottom of the ravine.”

“We have enough dependable vines for everyone,” Paeris reported back.

“Test more. We're using two each. One to advance down with, one to secure yourselves with attaching it to arrows you shoot into crevices every dozen feet or so.” However, he grabbed hold of only one and swung down, leaving the others to make their minds up about whether they followed his orders to the dot. 

The redhead gave a little huff in exasperation and followed his example, sliding down her vine more than anything to catch up with him. “You need to watch where you're going,” Thranduil appeared at her side all of a sudden and pushed her out the way of a sticking out boulder that would have surely bashed her head in at the velocity they were sliding down at. 

“I would if it wasn't Your Majesty's hazardous behaviour that I had to concentrate on,” she complained impudently. The king's amused snort sounded distinct in her ears as close to each other as they were. Thranduil seemed to have taken up cradling her waist and directing them to a gap in the wall they easily fit through. The next moment hit her harder than landing on stone would have as abruptly, she was home. Despite the house that the orcs have demolished and the lush vegetation, there was no doubt in her mind that this was the spot she had taken her first steps at, lay down in the grass with a book to wait for dinner, rocked her little brother to sleep. 

“Are you alright?” Although their feet stood on solid ground, Thranduil had not let go of her waistline.

“Why do you think we will find something you haven't found when you were here last?” She changed the subject so she could ignore figuring out what exactly she was feeling. 

“Because last time the only priority I had was making sure that the little elf who'd been sitting at the grave of her family she dug herself for Eru knows how long, wasn't going to fade,” he was regarding her intently and repeated, “are you alright?”

“I am, My Lord,” she was determined to be, yet her eyes were attracted to the out of control elanor bush that half engulfed the ruins. She had planted the first flower herself on the grave and the roots gave her the exact indication where the bodies lay for their eternal rest. As if hypnotised, she started towards it, something squeezing in her chest. 

It was perhaps an eternity before she was spoken to next. Although she was somewhere aware of the commotion as the guards swiped the area, she did not look up till someone landed on their knees right next to where she was kneeling, to join her. “You should probably not spend too much time here, it's not safe,” Thranduil looked up pointedly at the dilapidated walls of the once cottage, now sagging with mud and threatening to slide off at any moment. 

Tauriel snapped her eyes at him. The moment he touched her she became self conscious and mortified the king was kneeling in front of her once more so she quickly jumped to her feet and offered her hand for Thranduil to take and help himself up with. “Have you found anything you were looking for, My Lord?” While her question was meant to be courteous, she could not keep the curiosity and nerves out her voice.

“I'm afraid the place has been looted a long time ago, there doesn't seem to be any sign of those who once lived here.”

“I am very sorry your coming here was futile, but I am grateful for the chance.”

“It's not your fault Tauriel, don't apologise. Do you remember anyone else your family was in contact with around here?”

“Only some Northmen, for trade.”

“Perchance anyone who lives a little longer, elleth..” He half chastised the unuseful comment.

Tauriel's eyes searched the cottage in ruins in front of her idly as she thought about the question. Then her eyes lit up and she broke into a run to disappear behind the fallen stones of the dwelling, leaving Thranduil in the middle of the sentence only to reappear a few moments later with a somewhat soggy and grimy leather satchel, of the same colour as she usually wore. “There was a loose stone in my bedroom, nobody could have found it,” she placed the item jubilantly, but reverently onto a boulder, heart beating faster and sensing her hands shake as she opened it. Inside, there were some drawings, a waterlogged book of tales, sea shells, buttons and the very item she remembered and went looking for, “there should be a portrait of my father in this locket,” she handed the adornment to Thranduil.

There was nothing casual about the way the king handled the locket. At first, he just kept it in his palm, searching the intricate engraving, smoothing over the design with delicate fingers, then turned it over and cleaned off some dirt with his own, finely embroidered edge of his sleeves. He almost looked weary as he turned the locket to its side and peered inside. His eyes went wide then and he clapped the locket shut to squeeze his fist around it and the next moment, he leaned forward and was throwing up to the side.

Tauriel was too startled to care for his medical needs right at that moment, her eyes went to the closed fist instead and she wanted nothing more than to see the image that elicited such a reaction from the king. “Who is it? My Lord, who's picture did you see?” She jumped to his side, more to be closer to the item than support him, wishing he would let go of the locket. “Was he a Silvan? What is wrong with the picture?”

“Nothing,” Thranduil shook his head, but his voice turned cold as he was trying to keep his stomach under control while he straightened to look into her eyes, “he is Silvan alright. His name was Tassarion and he was my father-in-law.”

“Forgive me My Lord,” Paeris interrupted their conversation with a bow, “orcs are reported to have emerged from a cave up the stream. We aren't in the best fighting position down here with the abyss behind, we need to be on the move.”

tbc


	10. Impact

Chapter 10: Impact

All of a sudden, Tauriel wanted nothing more than finding out about her family. At the current time, circumstances made it impossible to do so however. Even after the successful overpowering of the orcs, Thranduil pretty much refused to as much as acknowledge her presence, leading the two day march all the way to the Halls all by himself. After, she was expecting him to call her for a treatment session at least and when no such thing happened and she finally took the initiative to ask for an audience, she was told on no uncertain terms that the King was resting up and wished no intrusions. 

The captain had no other choice but to take her ordained leave after the mission as well, then when it was over, she took two patrols down the Southern border. By this time she had started to wonder if Thranduil was using a different healer and severed their link if not for the strange dreams she kept having, vivid and narrative about distant lands she had never seen for real, or erotic ones that had her touching his unclothed body intoxicated by the sensation, the feel of silken sheets around them as he brushed against and covered her bare breasts with his golden halo hair. Tauriel woke breathless every night, lips trembling with want and her panties drenched with her cum. It was inappropriate thinking of her King in that way, so she fisted her hands and sat up to meditate, filling her mind with battle formations and defensive manoeuvres. 

This time however, it wasn't the dreams that woke her, but a knock on her door. “Who is it?” She pulled on a robe, the first she could find, fearing news of enemy intrusion to their territory, but found an also scarcely dressed Elvenking standing in front of her door. His night shirt and breeches were of the finest white cloth, but it was still rather startling to see him so without adornment. “Are you alright, Aran nin?”

Thranduil placed a hand self-consciously on his stomach, “that's not what I'm here for. Please forgive my previous unsociability Tauriel, but the revelations at that dilapidated cottage of yours have deeply shaken me and brought up memories I hoped not to ever relive.”

“I can understand that, My Lord. The same has happened to me.”

“But in doing so, I admit I have ignored your needs and that should not do. You deserve better. Will you please join me and take a walk with me to my chambers? We can speak better there and I might have some answers there for you.”

“I would like that but I should get dressed first,” Tauriel hesitated.

Thranduil looked her up and down more thoroughly than he had at the moment of her opening the door, his eyes settling on her bare feet. There was something very inviting about those. “Come as you are,” he decided, offering up an arm for her. 

The redhead swallowed and blushed at such high attention. They were in contact just how she's imagined in her dreams, bar for the thin linen between them and that made her cheeks redden harder. If their link caused her dreams than was it reciprocal, was it the same delight and joy for him too and did he know about her consuming dreams? “You are trembling, my dear,” he observed.

“I am sorry, My Lord.”

“Don't apologise, I understand your agitation. Tonight can change everything,” he foretold. “so just ask and I shall do my best to fulfil your curiosity.”

“Thank you, Aran.”

“Ask,” Thranduil prompted once more as they walked, knowing it would not come easy to a subject of his to grill him with questions and actually expect real disclosure, there was no known precedence after all. 

“Was my father really your in-law?” 

“Tassarion,” he nodded, “he never liked me, but yes,” the king volunteered the information in good faith, “his own wife, his first one was Sindar, but he never wanted his daughter to marry me. Too vulnerable a position to put her in on her own volition, he'd say and was he right...After Ilyrana...after her death it was hard for me to look him in the eyes so I didn't mind when he left. We interpreted her departure differently as well. I succumbed to self-pity and despair while he insisted on the faith that Ilyrana would never leave us and will not everlastingly stay in the Halls of Mandos, that her spirit would find a way to be reborn in a new body on her way back to us. I heard rumours some time after that he remarried to a Silvan.”

“So I am not of Sindar origins after all.”

“Maybe not, but you are so much more.”

“Your...sister-in-law you mean? Half, that is.” Tauriel stumbled on the word that would signify their family relation. It was perhaps very pretentious of her to hope he would acknowledge her in that way.

He nodded in earnest and pulled his arm out and away from holding hers only to offer her his hand as he encouragingly led her across and through his chambers to a door opening from his bedroom. “It might be rather dusty in here, I haven't been inside for years...”

Tauriel swallowed, trying to overcome her nerves for there could be no doubt about who's boudoir this was. Painted shades of green with the colours of the forest in its healthier times, the room smelt more of flowers rather than dust, scented bottles randomly lying on the cabinet, a painting of baby Legolas sitting in the lap of a graceful, smiling Lady, eyes as vivid as if she was just there. “My Ilyrana,” Thranduil presented the elleth with reverence, though not as if Tauriel would have had any doubts. It was the divan that shocked her the most. With the legs made to look like lairelosse trees, it had to be the very lounge some of her dreams took place at! She wanted to quickly forget the association, think about it at a different time than when he was closely watching her. “May I?” Her hands wavered towards the drawing book on the desk.

“My privilege,” Thranduil honoured her with soft spoken, benevolent words and a flourish of the hand. 

Tauriel averted her eyes at his candour and benignity, it was all way more personal than she was used to or could contend with at the current time. The pages of the book however did not offer less perturbation. It wasn't unusual that she would recognise the flowers of the forest drawn, she was one herself after all, but every stroke of the pencil seemed familiar, along with the clearings and rooms and hills represented. Engulfed by the discovery, she didn't even notice Thranduil disappearing into a walk-in wardrobe and coming out with a green velvet jewellery box till he placed it in front of her onto the top of an open page. “Open it,” he demanded firmly. 

The redhead eyed it for a moment. There didn't seem to be a lock, a hole, nor a top to it and the sides were round, with no indication that the box could be at all opened. And yet when she picked it up and placed it in her palm, she slid the index and her little finger of her other hand under and flicked them at the bottom about half an inch apart. Tauriel gave a start when a compartment popped open, while Thranduil just watched, enthralled. “How did that happen?” She voiced her perturbation.

“Nobody apart from me knew how to open that. Nobody but Ilyrana,” the king declared, countenance eager and body slightly swaying forward, as if he would have wanted to jump at her. 

“I don't understand,” Tauriel refused to believe the obvious.

“You are her. You share the same spirit. You are Ilyrana!” Thranduil shook his head with abandon, “and to think I've had you right here in front of my eyes for centuries!”

“That's not possible.” The elleth blinked the idea repeatedly away. 

“Think about it Tauriel. Returning spirits tend to navigate towards their previous lives. You were born to Ilyrana's father, became my ward and Legolas' best friend, but could not get romantically involved with him, conducted yourself above your status and started displaying more and more elfcraft the closer you got to me and now you know designated secrets nobody was meant to know! Tell me all this around you doesn't seem familiar to you!”

“Maybe...maybe I was in here as an elfling. Maybe Legolas showed it to me when we were children.”

“I'm not sure if Legolas knows of the existence of this chamber, but I am certain he's not been allowed in here since his mother's death.”

The redhead just shook her head. “No. I am not Ilyrana. I am myself. I am Tauriel. I am my own person.” 

“Well of course you are. You had three hundred years to develop into your own person. But now if you would only allow it, everything could change. The memories should come back if you spend time in here, I'm certain.”

“I would know if I was someone else!” Her mind in a turmoil, it felt like she was falling backwards into some dark abyss. 

Thranduil stepped back one, noting her distress. “Please give it time and you shall see.”

“Permission to retire to my quarters,” Tauriel turned away, feet already facing the door.

The king sighed defeatedly, “granted. Such news cannot be easy for you so I will not force my presence upon you but endure till you are ready. Take as much time as you need.”

tbc


	11. Spacial Arrangements

Chapter 11: Spatial Arrangements

Thranduil has kept his word. For three weeks, he has neither turned up or summoned her and once again, Tauriel wondered if his health would suffer because of the separation, especially as his public appearances dwindled by the sound of it. She would have been completely willing to meet him for treatment sessions, but of course she could not be certain if he would not bring up the issue of her spirit's origins if they met in private. She could not however shake his words echoing in her mind, he would endure, he said. The choice of words did bother her and it was that which ultimately brought her to his door one evening, willing to compromise for his sake if necessary. 

To her surprise, her arrival didn't need as much as announced, the guards let her in immediately on sight, having clearly been given the order to do so. As she had feared, she had found him in bed though the night was young, somewhat pale and with his head tilted back as he rested, a hand loosely around his belly. “My Lord...” She let out a sympathetic breath.

“You came.” Thranduil raised his head, body becoming tensed and seeming animated without actually moving much. 

“I am here to help you with your pain, nothing more. Eru knows how much you've had to tolerate over these last weeks and I will let you know, I will not let my feelings get in the way of your well-being, not now and not ever.”

“That you never did.”

Tauriel swallowed her discomfort, “I need to request to please refrain from equating me with someone I am not if you'd like my services. While I am your loyal servant, I understand I am free to leave the kingdom at any time.”

Thranduil raised his eyebrows, “not so fast. First of all, I will admit to a little nausea and stomachache here and there, like as it is now, but in truth, I have been quite well. How else would I have been when I know for certain that my leaving this realm would achieve nothing. What I've been looking for is right here.”

“I am glad you are well,” Tauriel took in what she found important from that statement. 

“Almost well. I'm sure you're healing hand would go the rest of the way.”

“Yes, of course My Lord,” she advanced to sit at the edge of his bed like many times before, only she was a lot more self-conscious, weary and discomfited. Her hand was shaking a little when she placed it on his belly and she did not dare to meet his eyes. This time the whole routine seemed a lot more intimate than it had been before, though once she let the energy flow through her it was swift and easy like pie. She sensed him relax and was just about to pull away when through their link she was once again assaulted by a multitude of disorienting images, sensations and feelings in quick succession, visions that made her gasp due to the overload and their intensity, so much she didn't even have the chance to blush when her mind's eye fully experienced the feel of having his cock deep inside her. Her insides fluttered and clenched as if it would have been truly happening and the next moment her fingers felt what it would have been like to hold that penis and work it, her name breathed amorously on his tongue soothingly against her lips...

No, no, the king was actually calling her, holding her by the arms, sitting up for a better grip, “the memories, they are getting stronger aren't they.”

“Thranduil...” Tauriel held onto those arms, head spinning. She was a warrior though, she would fight anything. With determination, she brought herself back to reality, “I mean My Lord, I am very sorry for the slip of the tongue, it won't happen again.”

The blond grunted his displeasure, “you know it's the opposite that I really want, damn it,” he regarded her coldly, “you need to face some facts, the sooner, the better. There's a whole process to go through still and it will not be easy on either of us.”

“I can't give you what you want,” the elleth cried, standing up. The world was still spinning and she barely knew where she was or who she was, but she knew it was not her station to be in the king's bed as his lover, as much as an inviting prospect that seemed right now based on the visions. 

“There's no need for you to fall over in shock!” He commented on her swaying and staggering, “I will not stop you from running away if that's what you want, but please take a seat for a moment till I can be sure you won't faint,” he took her into his arms and steered her back to sit down. “What did you see that had such an effect? Was it your death? I can help you, just talk to me.”

“Oh Valar, I love you Thranduil..” She blurted out, eyes distant and desperate.

“What? No, no, you don't, Tauriel,” he stressed the name, “you're confused right now, you need to calm down and focus.”

“Your arms around me aren't helping,” she complained.

“Oh. Alright.” He hesitated a while, letting go slowly to make sure she was steady enough. 

Tauriel took a strengthening breath, shook herself and found that it somewhat cleared her head. There were some foreign sensation she could not make sense of, but at least she wasn't having intoxicating sex with the king in her mind, overwhelmed by stolen kisses! She risked a blink at him, but could only see his naked form. It was her desire she had to swallow this time. “I think I will have to acknowledge that I will never be the same and you should also know that I, as Tauriel, I do love you. I have never openly admitted to it, but it was this love that made my healing work. It was what I resorted to, knowingly, every time. The only thing I'm afraid of is losing myself.”

Thranduil shook his head seriously, “that isn't how it works. Certainly we only know by hearsay from stories originating before even our fathers were born, but letting the memories in should not negate who you are. You will always be Tauriel, flower of the forest, the noblest of all warriors who sees beyond race and wishes the best for everyone. It won't change who you are because Ilyrana was the same. Don't you see? You already have the qualities that make the personality, all you would get in addition is the knowledge of millennia past.”

“There's so much that comes to me every time,” she seemed in fact out of breath by it, “I don't know if I can manage,” she blushed. Admitting defeat was not one of her strong points, not to mention she would have to admit defeat at resisting Thranduil's perfect body now that she has seen it. 

He nodded in understanding, “wait, I have an idea. I cannot provide you with the memories from before I met Ilyrana, but I think I can guide you through the ones that matter. Do you trust me?” He offered a hand.

“I do,” deciding to bury her weariness, Tauriel placed hers in his without hesitation this time and held on tightly, sorely needing his guidance and comfort. She had never seen his eyes so soft, so inviting.

Tbc


	12. Module

Chapter 12: Module

Having braced herself against an assault of tumultuous sensations, Tauriel was glad to know his touch didn't immediately set that off. It fact it felt pleasant, with the feeling of warmth and familiarity, like being at home. His entire attention was on her and it was clear that this time he was consciously navigating the link between them as he pulled her down with him onto the silky sheets, arms around her protectively, but not intrusively. It should have felt weird, lying down with the king, but instead it was calming and reassuring, natural. “Ready?” He breathed into her hair.

The redhead just nodded into his chest, tensing up a little once more. There was nothing to be worried about however, even as the first image came into focus gradually, being heralded by her other senses and readying her for it. Not that she needed readying, the image was peaceful and beautiful, not very unlike Imladris, but larger and higher and Tauriel somehow instinctively knew that it was the hidden, once city of Elves lying above a tunnel on a ravine where she, or more like Ilyrana was swimming in the warm river, unclothed, with only her long hair covering her breasts. Young Thranduil she barely recognised, but his touch was unmistakable. A serious voice interrupted, its owner cold like marble and Tauriel knew now that Thranduil was nothing like his father, but infinitely more down to earth and more welcoming. They were told they were too young to marry, too young to be intimate and too different to wed. For the next few hundred years or so however, Oropher was nowhere to be seen in the visions. There was only freedom and the sun shimmering through the branches of trees, singing birds and rain of crystal, the couple barefoot and collecting honey. Eloped till dark clouds came, her pulling her injured husband through a sea of dead elves on a battlefield, him still needing her support to stand as the crown is placed on the top of his head. 

Tauriel instinctively cradled his body against hers, knowing the worst was still to come. While he was largely in control of the flow of memories through their link and made a firm effort to shield her from the most direful ones, even with the limiting of the experience it was hard for her not to be affected by the memory of him lying half dead and unrecognisably charred by dragonfire, her giving birth not knowing if he lived or died. It was his turn to blush at the next memory he'd clearly mistakenly let slip-he could make love to her during recovery before he could get out of bed. It was a weary time coming and yet happy and she always felt safe in his arms, even when it came to Gundabad. It was not a good-bye, she never saw it as that...

Tauriel looked up at him, at his closed eyelids behind long lashes, the affliction on his face as he relived those moments himself and she could not stand it anymore, seeing him like that. Her kiss was instinctual, and to her surprise, it took her breath away more than it took his, bottled up passion breaking free, desperate and demanding on his part that she complimented with soothing, satisfying, sweet. An explosion of feelings followed that she knew she would have to sort through and divide into what belonged to her and what belonged to Ilyrana, but right now, nothing mattered, nothing but those strong arms around her that moved her on her back where he towered above her, breaking the kiss with some reluctance and looking into her eyes searchingly. “What was that, Tauriel?” He used the name purposively for the same reasons of making the distinction.

“I am yours to do with as you wish, My Lord. I want to heal you, fully, and that can only happen if your spirit joins with the one it has been missing for so long.”

Thranduil tilted his head, his expression changing to overserious, “so you want to give yourself to me out of pity,” he moved back to sit up, “healers don't usually couple with their patients.”

“Pity? No,” she lounged after him, though didn't dare to touch him without permission still, “I wouldn't call it that. More like compassion, sympathy, not wanting to see the one you love hurt.”

“You are still confused then, Tauriel, you have been all this time,” he sighed, “you don't love me. It's Ilyrana in you and I am not going to take advantage of your state of mind, not when you'll come to regret it and despise me for it.”

The redhead let the air out slowly, thinking as she did so, mind racing to filter logical thought through the haze of emotions. Maybe she had the other elleth's spirit, but apart from fractions of time, she pretty much knew who she was, and that was a hotheaded captain of the guard who always lay her life down for what she felt was right. “How can I convince you that this is me, Tauriel who offers?”

“You need time. Time to remember, and time to process. I can order whatever you want from my wife's room to be taken down to your quarters and once you studied them, you will perhaps need some time away. Go travel like you've always wanted, explore the realm, meet some dwarves, whatever. And if in years' time, you come back and tell me you still want my love, then it will be there, waiting for you.”

“Years?” Tauriel felt shock solidifying her heart. Surely he did not mean that, not with those sad, chillingly clear blue eyes.

“There is no other way to be sure.”

“You banish me again?” Her voice was hoarse, desperate, shocked.

“It's not like that. You are welcome to come back when you are truly ready, you will know when that is if you reflect over it.” 

“But how will you endure! Your stomach?”

He waved her off. “I am accustomed to be being apart from my soulmate. Besides, as I explained to you, hope alleviated the symptoms. You shouldn't feel obliged to come back to me, just the knowledge of knowing you're safe and alive is enough to blanket the wound in my heart. I will be well.”

“What about me? How can I be apart from you when I've just found you!” Unwanted, angry tears prickled her eyes, heart tightening with tension.

“See? That is Ilyrana talking. You need to learn to differentiate, that's an order,” he put his arms around her once more, but this time to press her to stand and direct her towards the door. “You are relieved from all other duties till then.”

Tauriel turned to look at him, her back to the door. Perhaps she was confused indeed because there was nothing about him that made her feel like he was her superior, her king, her distant commander. He was her lover, an extension of her, flesh that felt wrong not being in contact with. He must've felt the same, because he paused to hold her hands and looked into her eyes with yearning, not completely succeeding to conceal the pain of what was to come. He initiated the kiss this time, though slowly, gently, fleetingly, breath barely brushing her lips, making sure he didn't impose that on her either, but no matter how soft it was, it still ignited the fire inside her, making her breathless and craving for more. Her lips followed his as he tried to pull back, her hands tangling into his hair as she reached behind him to hold him close and firm, her body pushing against his, erection pressing against her belly clear as day as she melted into his form.

“Tauriel...” Thranduil demonstrated further self control by gently disentangling her from himself, even if breathing heavily. 

“Forgive me, My Lord, I don't know what came over me,” Tauriel tried to catch her breath.

“You do know. You do know my suggestions are advisable. Now go,” he turned away, not bearing the sight of her departure. He felt guilty for sending her away, causing her heartache, but it had to be done as they could not even be sure it was truly Tauriel's heartache. Only after the door closed behind her that he allowed himself to bend in half and retch, a renewed separation harder on him than he wanted to admit. 

Tbc


	13. Vertebral Column

Chapter 13: Vertebral Column

Thranduil rubbed at his aching stomach, annoyed it was bothering him again and that it made him curtly dismiss his council without explanation. Of course his advisors were not clueless, most would have noticed or had been made aware over the last few years that their King was often unwell, not just moody. Unsettled, the Elvenking sighed in resignation as he slowly made his way towards his rooms, knowing that sooner or later he would have to answer the letter from Elrond as well in which the half-elf enquired if the rumours of him wanting to sail soon would be true. He would not be up for that today either however and hoped that at least Galion would not annoy him tonight with trying to make him eat something. Dropping all of his emotionless pretences as he entered the privacy of his living quarters, he tossed his flowers adorned wooden crown haphazardly onto the floor and paused to lean on the wall, close his eyes and ride out the cramp that has taken hold of his midsection for the umpteenth time in the afternoon, allowing himself to moan since nobody would hear him. 

“You lied to me.” The accusation came from a slightly hoarse voice, who's owner was sitting by his desk, her hand letting go of the Thranduil's sketch she had been studying, representing her. 

“Tauriel!” Thranduil jumped and regretted straightening right away, it hurt. “How did you get in here!”

She only had to blink into the direction of Ilyrana's open door to make the other understand. Tauriel would know of the late Queen's secret passageways. “I am glad you remember such details,” Thranduil wallowed. 

“I also remember you telling me not to worry because you were feeling better and could handle detachment,” Tauriel would not let the issue go.

“How else could I have made you follow through with what needed done! Besides, I was feeling better. It is only because I wasn't sure I would ever see you again that I have allowed myself to deteriorate.”

“You speak as if your health would be completely under your control, which it obviously isn't,” Tauriel chastised, taking the initiative to step round him and offer her support, “didn't you want to get into bed?”

“Hm.” Dazed, Thranduil gave his permission and let her manoeuvre him to his original destination and gently into horizontal. To have her here, it could be amazing, but he should not jump to conclusions just yet, he had to hear her out. “Why have you come back?” He could not wait any longer for answers.

Tauriel shook her head and slid a hand under his tunic, rubbing his belly a little before getting to work and sending that healing force forth and soothing his pain, the same as he had been accustomed to when she had been around in the past. She could not heal him completely yet however, that could only be done with the hopefully the right words that could pass between them. “I came back because even as far as in Enedwaith I hear people whispering that Eryn Galen's King is sick!”

“Nan Belain, Aear a Geil!” Thranduil expressed his frustration. That was the wrong reason to come back for. “So we're back to square one,” he disheartened. 

“Ce uchand,” Tauriel countered fleetly, casually, playfully then froze, eyes widening. Her hand went to her mouth as if to gag herself. 

“Using that expression doesn't help convince me that you know who you are. You're still mixed-up!” He ran his fingers across his forehead, pressing, frustrated.

“Not at all. Thranduil, My King, I am both. I had to come to terms with it but now I know that I can be nothing else but both. And both love you. By now I came to think of myself as one again, an integrated version of me you should come to know now,” she accentuated her meaning with a nod and a tentative reach towards his hand. She wasn't sure if she could or should act on the urge as she wasn't sure of her standing with him at the moment. 

Thranduil however, was at the end of his tether. Of being noble and permitting, of pain and loneliness, of patience, torment and forbearance. He had sent her away to find herself and now she had told him she did and he had no reason he could think of to doubt her. This was it, didn't he finally deserve some happiness? There was a moment of hesitation, but it was only to reign in his feelings, resolve to kiss her and show some restraint rather than swipe her into his arms and claim her without asking right there and then. Not that she presented any objections. The velvety touch of her lips felt liberating, and the explosion of the senses translated into meaning. While the first brush was fleeting, it signified everything. They were united how they should have always been. His body filled with purpose, and love and well-being came with it, though at this moment any thoughts of testing his stomach ailments or even thinking of them were the furthest from his mind. It felt like the world was ending and coming into existence at the same time. 

He went for a second kiss, deeper, more ardent this time, sweet like honey and engulfing him like a spell with joy and wonderment with a startling force like nothing else existed. It made him weak with desire, his insides shaking with want and it was at that point that he put his arms around her and swept her up to lie with him on the bed. The kiss was followed by another and then another, each exploring, testing boundaries and distant memories and a feel that was new. The fact that their relationship had this fresh side filled him with exhilaration and a newfound appreciation for life and the discovery propelled him forward, breaths becoming irregular with need as he moved his lips down her neck to graze and a hand to the straps of her attire. 

Tauriel seemed to shiver under him, anticipation filling her every pore to the brim to the point of explosion. She had waited so long for this on that quest of self-discovery of hers, on the quasi banishment he had foolishly sent her on, imagined and dug in Ilyrana's memories to envisage this moment, knowing the reality would be much sweeter. They pulled back for a moment to smile at each other in unison, the sweet rewards of the fulfilled dream worth every ounce of the suffering that let them there. Then Tauriel's unruly mischief (or was it Ilyrana's, it would be so typical) started a spark in her eyes and she rubbed a thigh sensually against his groins, letting him know how aware she was of the bulge aching for attention there. Her knee was even more resourceful, rubbing up higher and hooking itself into his breeches, then pulling it down to set his straining erection free. She looked down with an appreciative groan, anxious to have him fill her and complete her, eyes begging at the member as if it could have responded on its own. 

Thankfully on the same wavelength, he utilised his long fingers to pull her pants down. Given the months long delay, or centuries, depending on the viewpoint, foreplay was not an option, nor further exploration for establishing familiarity or intimacy. Both were a given. He entered her and finally, their world made sense. 

The End


End file.
